


the gossip club

by CassandraStarflower, selenestarflower



Series: Cassiopeia Potter Throws A Wrench Into Things [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Fuck JK Rowling, Molly Weasley Bashing, Mostly original characters, Multi, This is important worldbuilding, Trans Harry Potter, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Worldbuilding, setting up the culture of the wizarding world in the cassiopeia potter verse, trans OC, wrote like three paragraphs about muriel prewett bc i hate her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraStarflower/pseuds/CassandraStarflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenestarflower/pseuds/selenestarflower
Summary: The ladies of Magical Britain are fond of gossip. There's not much else to do while their children prepare for war and their husbands muck about in politics, right? (Aside from planning their eventual conquest of the world, that is.)
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Rodolphus Lestrange/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Cassiopeia Potter Throws A Wrench Into Things [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/915030
Kudos: 19





	1. Yule Ball, 2010

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series within a series, featuring mostly original characters who are members of the various families of the Wizarding World. Hopefully someone finds it enjoyable!  
> Some notes about titles:  
> Duke and Duchess are the highest titles possible. Next would be Marquess/Marchioness, Earl/Countess, Viscount/Viscountess, Baron/Baroness, Baronet/Baronetess, and from there just Sir/Lady for those with an Order of Merlin and Mister/Missus/Miss for others. Lord and Lady are also used to indicate an unmarried members of a noble house, i.e. Ariadne Nott and Ursula Moon in this story.

The Yule Ball is in full swing, hosted this year by Marquess Davidius Greengrass and his wife, the Marchioness Elizabette. Six-year-old Daphne and four-year-old Astoria have been shepherded off to bed, though they may later sneak back down to watch the festivities. 

Gossip abounds. Duchess Lestrange is attending for the first time in years, accompanied by her lovely, newly-married youngest, Leta, and her two sons, Rodolphus and Rabastan. 

Viscountess Euphemia Abbott flutters her fan in front of her face, giving Countess Imogene Smith a conspiratorial look. “No Duke Lestrange again this year, I see.” 

Imogene chuckles and says, “Well, he never was much one for parties, now, was he?” 

Baroness Cordelia Davis smiles, folding her own fan. “I heard he may be abdicating his title.” 

Euphemia raises an eyebrow, pink lips tugging into a smirk. “To whom? Rodolphus? Rabastan? He’s not foolish enough to abdicate to a _Death Eater_ . Sorry, _accused_ Death Eater.” 

Cordelia says, “Maybe his wife.” 

All of the ladies snort. Imogene rolls her eyes and says “His daughter, maybe. Or a grandson. Doesn’t she have a few boys?” 

“The oldest’s a _Squib_ .” Euphemia says, in a low voice. “Such a _shame_ , really, I heard he’s very clever.” 

Viscountess Lilith Zabini raises an eyebrow. “She’s got other sons. Shame Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s girl disappeared like that in March. She’d be next in line, wouldn’t she? Over Leta’s children. And being Rodolphus’.”

“Yes, little Hermione.” Cordelia says. 

“How awful.” Lady Ariadne murmurs, eyes flickering toward the two Lestrange women. 

“Dreadful.” Lady Ursula agrees, eyes fixed on Lord Rodolphus. “You know, Rodolphus and Bellatrix divorced recently.” 

“Oh, _really_ , Ursula.” Euphemia chides. “It’s only been a few months!” 

Lady Ursula simply smiles and brushes a lock of dead-straight white hair behind her ear. “Yes, it’s been a few months.” 

She folds her fan and sets off toward Rodolphus. 

Viscountess Narcissa Malfoy makes a soft sound, watching her sister’s ex-husband. “How rude. They’re only _just_ divorced.” 

Leta Lestrange glides over to them. 

“Leta, darling.” Narcissa takes the other woman’s hand, smiling. “How’s married life? How was the honeymoon?” 

“Oh, delightful.” Leta says, smiling, green eyes glinting. “Astra and I had a _wonderful_ time.” 

Lilith gets a rather mischievous look on her face. “Can we expect baby number seven anytime soon?” 

Leta laughs, tossing long brown curls over her shoulder. “Perhaps. But given I’ve already had two sets of twins, who knows? It could be babies seven _and_ eight.” 

The women all titter.

Dumbledore arrives to find that most of Wizarding Britain seems to be in attendance tonight. The ballroom is crowded, full of men in dress robes or very old-style Muggle suits, and women in ball gowns, every person dripping with jewels or precious metals. 

Dumbledore still draws every eye in fluorescent orange velvet with shining gold stars patterned onto the cloth. 

(It’s not really a good thing.) 

He also draws a fair number of glares from the Dark and Gray families. He has made no friends among those factions. 

“Look at him!” Leta hisses, dark green eyes flashing with anger. 

“ _What_ is he _wearing_?” Euphemia breathes, fan covering her mouth. 

Imogene sneers. “He never had much of a fashion sense, I suppose.” 

“Or a sense of decency.” Leta mutters. 

Lilith raises an eyebrow at her. 

“He must have taken Hermione. He’s the only one who could possibly have done it. If I ever find out where he stashed her-” 

“Oooh.” Ariadne blinks at the old man. “He’s trying to talk to your _mother_.” 

Leta hisses and stalks off toward her mother, lovely face twisting with rage. 

“She seems a little _overly_ upset, don’t you think?” Euphemia says. “I mean…” 

Imogene sighs. “She had a little ball to introduce her newest little ones. You know, Livia and Julius. The Headmaster tried to throw her oldest out the window.” 

The other ladies gasp. 

“What on earth was he thinking?” Lilith breathes, eyes wide. “Throwing a child out the window? Why, Petyr’s not more than six, is he?” 

“A _Squib_. Why would the Chief Warlock bother with a Squib?” asks Imogene. 

Narcissa sharply shuts her fan. “Excuse me. I need to go find Lucius.” 

She sets off, tossing long blonde hair over her shoulder. 

Over by Duchess Lestrange, Albus Dumbledore has been trying to persuade her to convince her husband to allow the latest ruling to pass. 

“Absolutely not.” Ophelia Lestrange nee Rosier announces. “Do you truly believe that I would make even the slightest attempt to persuade my husband to vote for your latest attempt to pilfer the Potter estate? Do you _remember_ the Laws, _Chief Warlock_? It is not done!” 

Dumbledore frowned. “But, Ophelia-”

“That is _Duchess Lestrange_ to the likes of _you_ , _Headmaster_!” Leta Lestrange snarls as she appears at her mother’s elbow. “Come, Mother, let’s not waste our time here.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth again, but the two women glided away, sneering over their shoulders at him. 

“Oh, dear, was that Headmaster Dumbledore speaking to your mother?” Lady Ursula asks Lord Rodolphus, who frowns. 

“Yes. Mother can really handle herself, of course.” 

Lady Ursula smiles again, eyelashes fluttering and fan held just in front of her mouth. “Of course she can. Duchess Lestrange is _most_ formidable. What were you saying about foreign affairs again? You know I _always_ want to hear your opinions.” 

Lord Rodolphus puffs up a bit and nods. “Of course, Lady Ursula.” 

Lady Leta glances over at them, smiling. “Oh, Mother, look, Rodolphus is talking to Lady Ursula.” 

“The Moon girl? The one that was in your year at Hogwarts?” Duchess Lestrange asks. Leta nods. 

“I think she’s rather clever. Very ambitious. The epitome of a Slytherin.” 

“Well, I suppose they’d be better matched than Rodolphus and Bellatrix. Those two never were a very good match.” 

“No, indeed, Mother.” 

The ball went on.


	2. Tea Party, 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Leta Lestrange II is holding a tea party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And introducing- the first chapter of any Cassiopeia Potter fic that my sister, selenestarflower, has coauthored!  
> Feat. incredible amounts of useless gossip that is actually relevant to the story and universe. The Ginny thing is going to be important, folks!  
> \-- CassandraStarflower

The invitations come with the date inscribed in graceful silver: _May 12th, 2012._

Leta Lestrange the Second is holding a tea party. An _exclusive_ event. 

One by one, the ladies RSVP. 

No one turns the invitation down. 

The guests arrive at the Lestrange townhouse in London one by one. Very few are ever invited to Lestrange Manor, in Wales. The house is extremely well warded and of course there are a great many children living there. 

Leta is waiting in the tea room with a lovely smile and a round belly. She is seven months pregnant. 

Again. 

Leta seems determined to single-handedly repopulate the Wizarding World. 

This will be her fifteenth child.

Thank goodness, she says lightly as they enter, for potions that fix everything up.

The ladies laugh. A few of them have children of their own. 

“Children are such a blessing.” Narcissa Malfoy says, though she looks tired. 

“Are they?” snarks Cordelia Davis. “I really rather think _yours_ takes tragically after his father.” 

“Really.” Narcissa says coldly. 

“Ladies.” Leta says, shaking her head. The tea appears in front of them, served by a Lestrange house elf. Everyone takes their cups. 

“How are the octuplets?” Imogene Smith asks. She is a tired mother herself, with a daughter named Sally. 

Leta laughs. “Thank the Saints for Mother, is all I can say. And thank the Saints for my sister May. She’s taken in Petyr. He’s such a clever child and I think Muggle schooling would be best for him. Since he can’t go to Hogwarts.” 

“Such a _shame_.” Euphemia Abbott says. “A Squib.” 

“He’s clever. He takes after his father.” 

“You haven’t said who his father is, Leta darling.” Ursula Moon says, tilting her head. 

Leta laughs softly. “And I won’t! A lady must have her little secrets.” 

“Quite.” says Lilith Zabini, with a sharp smile that does not reach her eyes. She is on husband number three now, and her son is only eight.

There are rumors. 

Of course there are. 

"Ohh, Leta darling, did you hear? Our _dear_ Aurelia Lockhart has taken off to America?" Lilith says.

“Really?” Leta says with glee. 

“Probably to marry her Muggle plumber.” Narcissa sneers softly. “You know they have a _child?_ Disgusting.” 

“Muggles aren’t all bad.” Leta says loftily, smirking. “But that plumber… have you _seen_ him?” 

“Oh?” Imogene leans forward. 

Ursula smiles. “I have. He’s quite the _specimen_ of uselessness. A stupid, little, small-minded man.”

"Well, yes. But of course Aurelia has always been all glitter, no gold." Ariadne Nott put in.

The ladies all titter. 

Leta laughs again. “And after all that time saying she would never _settle_ for anything but the best. I suppose he’s _rich…_ and the best she’ll ever get.” 

Ursula gives a sharp grin. “He’s not bad-looking, I suppose. But a Muggle! And such a _stupid_ one. He’s got no redeeming qualities at all, really.” 

“Not like my brother?” Leta says slyly. “You and Rodolphus have been getting quite _close_ lately.” 

“Your brother is a handsome and powerful wizard.” Ursula says loftily. “I think he’s quite the catch!” 

Leta smiles. “Well, for what it’s worth, Ursula darling, I rather think Mother approves.” 

“Good.” 

“Good for you, Ursula.” Lilith says. “How’s your father, Leta?” 

Leta wrinkles her nose. “The children have nicknamed him Jabba the Hut. I’m not entirely sure what they mean by it, but I’m sure it’s an insult.” 

“Oh _dear,_ ” says Lilith, who has dated several Muggles. “It’s a Muggle story character. A very fat and cruel creature.” 

Leta raises an eyebrow. “I suppose letting May and her husband show them Muggle, ‘movies’, was always going to lead to this. At least Father is unlikely to understand it anytime soon.” 

“But how _is_ he?” Imogene asks. 

“Getting worse by the minute. Mother has fair given up on making him move from his chair. She just hits him with a _Scourgify_ every now and again and remembers to starch his moustache for him.” 

The ladies titter again. 

“How about the Headmaster? He has a new set of robes he seems determined to burn everyone’s eyes out with.” Ursula says. 

“Oh, please!” Leta says. “I would prefer not to get started on _that_ topic. Most of the things I have to say about him are not kind. Or appropriate for company.” 

Narcissa snorts elegantly. “I don’t think many of the Old Families are fond of him. And _yours_ is older than most. Mine, as well… at least, the Blacks.” 

“I rather think you married beneath you, Narcissa.” Ursula says. “The Malfoys are so _new_ in Britain, really.” 

“It was a betrothal in the fashion of the old ways, Ursula. Mother and Father made the choice. The Malfoys are rather _wealthy,_ aren’t we?” 

“With Black money padding out ill-gotten wealth.” Leta says. “Mother and Father certainly never took Black money when dear Bellatrix was married to Rodolphus.” 

Narcissa doesn’t flush, though if she were a lesser woman she certainly would have. “I hardly think my House’s business is yours.” 

“Apologies.” Leta says, all smiles and grace. It is rare that she does not come out on top. 

“Yes, apologies.” Ursula says. 

Narcissa inclines her head. All grace and quiet dignity. She is a Black, through and through, unlike her young son, who is a spoiled brat with little in the way of grace or dignity. 

His father’s son, truly. 

“So," Cordelia says, "have you been considering names for your newest baby?"

“Well, yes. It’s a boy, this time. Naturally. I think I will choose Arcturus.” 

“That’s an excellent name.” Narcissa says. “After Arcturus Black?” 

“Yes, of course.” Leta says. 

“Well, how about the Weasleys’ eldest?” Imogene asks. “Off with the goblins. Mother Weasley is rather upset by it, I hear.” 

“Overbearing harridan.” Ariadne says. It’s the most spiteful they’ve ever seen her. “She said I was dressing like a harlot once! No respect at all.” 

It comes as a surprise to everyone else, as Ariadne may wear the occasional sleeveless or strapless dress but hardly wears revealing clothes at all. 

“She likes to pry into everything and act like she’s the mother of every last one of us.” Lilith says. “She dresses like an old nun. I pity poor little Ginerva. No fashion sense to look up to and a mother who will _never_ let her out of the nest.” 

“Of course, you’ve heard the rumors about how she got her husband, right?” Leta asks. 

“Oh, _do_ tell, darling.” Lilith purred. 

“Well, Molly’s always been _quite_ the Potion maker, hasn’t she?” Leta says. “Since school. Rumor has it her husband’s been dosed with _quite_ a bit of Love potions. And others, perhaps.” 

“Oh!” Narcissa breathes, smirking. “What a _scandal!_ ”

“And you’ve heard about little Ginerva, right?” Leta goes on. “About how Molly Weasley wasn’t in the least bit pregnant before having her?” 

“Really?” says Imogene. “Who _is_ Ginerva’s mother, then?” 

“Rumor has it, Lily Potter!” 

_“What?”_ Narcissa cries. “Lily _Potter?”_

“She cheated on James?” Ariadne breathes. 

“Oh no, I’ve seen little Ginerva myself.” Leta says. “She looks every inch Lily and James. _Combined._ ” 

“Saints…” Ariadne says. “You think she’s theirs!” 

“Well, yes. I know Lily was pregnant for a time before dying. I hardly think the baby died with her. And you know how Dumbledore meddles.” 

“Oh, _yes!_ ” Ursula hisses, looking thrilled. 

“What a scandal! First the Potter twins, then your little niece, now the baby Potter!” Lilith says, eyes wide. 

Leta laughs again, hand on her belly. 

Ariadne sinks back in her chair and takes a fortifying sip of tea. It’s like being back in Hogwarts, gossiping about your classmates. 

But instead, they were gossiping about world leaders. 

It was rather thrilling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are having so much fun writing all the hot gossip.  
> \-- CassandraStarflower


	3. Dinner Party, 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are invited to a dinner party at Malfoy Manor, hosted by Viscountess Narcissa Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like flowery descriptions of clothing, hair, and makeup. Because I kinda just went for it. Also, trans Harry Potter: you may notice that he is not mentioned by name in this chapter, though he is mentioned. Plus less gossip, more worldbuilding. --CassandraStarflower

Lucius Malfoy does not understand how his wife can stand all the twittering women with their jeweled ball gowns and feathered fans. 

Then again, she practically is one, currently draped in pale green silk with her hair pinned up and dripping with jewels. 

(The  _ Gemini _ spell is very useful when it comes to jewelry. Conjuration and Transfiguration are just as good, when it comes to events that only last a few hours.) 

“Lucius,  _ dear,” _ his wife begins, “would you mind terribly getting the door?” 

Lucius certainly  _ does _ mind getting the door for his wife’s shallow friends, but the look she shoots him reminds him that she is a  _ Black _ and knows at least six ways to castrate a man. Without her wand. 

She knows at least ten more  _ with _ her wand. 

He gets the door. 

She smiles sweetly at the three invited ladies as they enter. 

“Lucius is  _ such _ a gentleman,” she tells Lady Leta Lestrange II, who is about as terrifying as graduates of Slytherin get and who  _ does not like _ Lucius at all. 

“Oh?” Leta purrs, her green eyes fixed on Lucius, her smile wide and glinting. 

She looks like a predator. 

Lucius shudders and turns away, leaving the room. 

Leta laughs as he does, turning to smile at his wife. The two step into the dining room together. 

Narcissa is quickly presiding over the dinner table, seating each person, ready to make sure that nothing goes wrong. 

It’s going to be a lovely event. 

All four sit in unison, and the polite inanities flow from their lips as they turn and greet one another, white teeth flashing, lashes fluttering, nails lacquered perfect shades of nearly every color out there, hair perfectly curled or straightened, lips painted and eyelids colored. 

Not one single flaw in any of them. 

Not in Ursula Moon, unmarried daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Moon, with her long white hair flowing perfectly straight down her back and her grey eyes lined with black kohl, lips painted pale pink and nails a matching shade. Her sleek grey dress matches her eyes perfectly and the silk slides across her skin. 

Not in Leta Lestrange, unmarried daughter of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Lestrange, her long brown curls done up in loops and braids, eyes lined with golden kohl, cheeks powdered golden, lips sparkling, green satin dress setting off her light brown skin. The dress is full of lace and layers and falls around her legs in graceful waves. 

Not in Ariadne Nott, unmarried daughter of the Noble and Ancient House of Nott, light brown hair falling around her face in gentle waves, brown eyes lined with dark blue, smile soft and just a little bit hesitant. Her dress is just as soft as her round face, fluffy lace and all in shades of pale blue, like foam. 

And certainly not in their hostess, Narcissa Malfoy, a daughter of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and the wife of the Head of the Noble House of Malfoy, her blonde hair pinned up and her sharp blue-grey eyes lined in white kohl. Her dress is dark green silk and silver lace, and the skirt falls to her feet. 

“I am  _ so _ glad that you all made it.” Narcissa enthuses, smiling at her guests. 

Lucius sulks his way upstairs, certainly not pouting. 

Not at all. 

He scowls at the door to his son’s room. Then at the stairs down to his wife’s party, hearing the silvery voices of the ladies. 

It would be an insult to ask them to leave. All three were higher-ranking than Lucius himself, a fact he detested. 

Even marrying a daughter of the House of Black had not elevated him  _ enough _ . 

Downstairs, Leta chuckles, tossing a braid over her shoulder. “How  _ do _ you stand him, Narcissa darling?” 

Narcissa simply smiles. “Men have their uses, don’t they? I certainly don’t think I could delve quite so deep into rituals as you have, Leta, dear. Draco was conceived in the usual way- Lucius was good for that, at least.” 

Leta shakes her head. “Petyr and Psyche were conceived the usual way- their father was a  _ very _ good lover.” She gives a mischievous smile. “The same goes for Minos.” 

“You’re certainly quite the character, Leta.” Ursula laughs. 

Leta takes no offense. “I suppose so. But yes, I’ve delved into rituals. There are  _ reasons _ why my children are all three half-bloods, and why I will never have a child with a pureblood. I have done many rituals just to keep myself able to have children more than once. The Prewetts have always been a rarity.” 

“I suppose Lily Potter’s Muggle blood has to do with her having twins?” Ariadne puts in. 

“I have my doubts about how much Muggle blood Lily Potter really had, but she certainly had some.” 

Narcissa sighs. “I suppose you have a fair point, Leta, but you know they will never be accepted.” 

Leta gives a small and bitter smile. “No. Petyr is a Squib.” 

“Oh!” Ariadne gasps. “You haven’t sent him away?” 

“I will not ship my child to some other family to put their filthy hands all over him and shape him into a boring and  _ normal _ person. My son may not have magic, but he is the cleverest child I have ever met, save perhaps his cousin. He will do great things.” 

“Speaking of his cousin, how is little Hermione?” Ursula asks with a soft smile. 

Leta sits back, politely cutting her chicken into smaller chunks. “Hermione is a little hellion. The scamp already has Rabastan wrapped around her little finger. She’s going to be trouble.” 

“I imagine so.” Narcissa drawls. “Has Selene Lovegood brought little Luna to visit?” 

“Frequently. But after the first two times they Apparated to each other, no one is bothering to fight the bond anymore. It’s too bad the little Potter hasn’t made an appearance. Hermione is occasionally inconsolable.” 

“Oh yes, all three of them bonded, didn’t they? Soulmate bonds are so rare.” Narcissa says earnestly.

“Yes. Shame, really. I thought the three of them made a lovely little set. But Dumbledore has stashed the twins away somewhere, and we’ve no idea where they are.” 

“Shame.” Ariadne echos softly. 

“He really has no business meddling.” Narcissa scoffs. “The twins may not be pureblood but one at least  _ bonded _ to two pureblood children.” 

Leta silently raises a bite of chicken to her mouth, eyes narrowing. 

Ursula snorts. “Dumbledore always meddles, doesn’t he?” 

“In everything.” Leta says. 

Ariadne picks up her glass. “Speaking of children, how is your son, Narcissa?” 

“Oh, Draco’s fine.” Narcissa curls a hand around her wine glass, her eyes turning distant. 

Leta’s lips curl into a sneer. “His father’s son?” 

Narcissa gives her a sharp look. “Perhaps.” 

The dinner goes on, filled with quiet clinking and soft conversation. 

The hour is late when Narcissa rises, the other three following. 

“I do so  _ enjoy _ our little conversations,” Narcissa says. 

Leta smiles. “I  _ do _ hope we’ll do this again. It is so nice to talk with other…  _ ladies.” _

Narcissa dips her head, smiling. “Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I like describing fancy clothes. :) --CassandraStarflower


	4. Yule Ball, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This year, the Yule Ball is being hosted by House Lestrange! And boy, do they have some Gossip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn’t tell, the timeline has been bumped up to modern day. In other words, Harry and Cassie were born in 2004. --CassandraStarflower

The ballroom is full of ladies in jeweled ball gowns and men in embroidered robes and suits, all chattering away. The occasional child dots the crowd, dressed like their parents in miniature, though the young ladies are certainly not wearing (much) makeup or showing off nearly as much skin as a few of the adult women. 

Ursula Lestrange is  _ radiant _ in the palest of pink silks, her dress and jewelry and makeup all pastel blues and greens and pinks, on her husband of two year’s arm. Rodolphus is less radiant, but no less happy. 

Leta Lestrange II, draped in green velvet with a long lace train, is indulgently patting her eleven-year-old daughter’s head, smiling with red lips at the foolish Minister Fudge. Little Psyche, second of Leta’s children (beaten by two hours by her twin brother Petyr), is her mother in miniature, except for her brown eyes and rounder face. She is dressed in lighter green, sleeves and hem trimmed with faux fur, without the jewelry and makeup her mother wears. 

Psyche was Sorted into Slytherin this year, and complains to her mother as soon as the Minister is gone. 

“He’s so stupid.” the girl whispers, tugging her mother’s flowing sleeve. “Almost as dumb as Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Leta chuckles, running her fingers over her daughter’s crown of soft brown braids. “Oh, darling, most people are stupid compared to you.” Leta dotes on her children, every last one, and refused to send her eldest Squib son into the Muggle world fully, instead sending him to live with a Squib relative in America. 

Psyche pouts and glances around the room. 

Albus Dumbledore was not invited this year. An oversight, he assumes, until he arrives at the countryside mansion (not the family’s Manor, which is in Wales, their country of origin) and is turned away at the door. 

“You’re not on the invite list.” the wizard at the door says, shaking his head. “Sorry, Chief Warlock. I can’t let you in.” 

Dumbledore fumes and returns to Hogwarts, where he has been hiding the Philosopher’s Stone in the hopes of forcing a confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. 

Narcissa keeps a firm hand on her son’s shoulder. Draco whines and complains the whole time, grumbling about “Potter” and “Potter” and “Granger”, who have been upstaging him in academics (and everyday life). 

“You gambled and lost, Draco.” she chides, shaking her head. “Enough. They beat you.” 

Draco pouts angrily at his mother, who is unmoved. His father indulges him a bit more than she does, but Narcissa sometimes thinks he needs some more discipline. 

He’s quite unlike her. If she didn’t remember giving birth to him in bloody, painful detail, she would wonder if he was even hers. 

Ariadne Nott approaches Leta with a smile on her lips. She has been nurturing a flirtation with Rabastan Lestrange the last couple of months, and seems fixed on the idea of marrying him. 

“Leta, I’ve begun to court your brother.” she says. Leta smiles. 

“Welcome to the family,” Leta coos, taking Ariadne’s hands in hers. “Rabastan is absolutely enamored by you. And I’m quite delighted.” 

Ariadne smiles shyly and turns to Psyche. “How is Hogwarts, Psyche?” 

Psyche peers at her with solemn dark eyes, looking faintly pleased at being addressed. “Nearly everyone in my entire House is stupid.” she says seriously, mouth tugging down at the corners. Ariadne smiles with soft amusement at the eleven year old’s complaints and says, “I’m sure they’ll learn.” 

Psyche gives a cynical huff. “Petyr’s friends are smarter than mine.” 

“Petyr’s friends are not nearly as inbred as most of your classmates.” Leta says dryly. 

Psyche just sighs rather dramatically, puffing soft bangs out of her face. “And now  _ I _ have to deal with it.” 

The two women chuckle softly at the girl’s melodrama. 

“Why don’t you go find your grandmother?” Leta says gently, smiling at her daughter. Psyche bobs her head quickly and takes off, weaving through the crowd, a little pale green dot slipping between the grownups in their darker colors. 

(Save for Calliope Nott, Ariadne’s cousin, who wears silver silks to indicate her betrothal.)

Ursula glides over with Imogene Smith and Lilith Zabini. 

Narcissa leaves her son with his father and walks over to the little group. Euphemia Abbott and Cordelia Davis arrive soon after, and Elizabette Greengrass follows. 

“Well, how about this year?” Euphemia says. “My daughter Hannah is at Hogwarts now.” 

“Daphne is too.” Elizabette says, smiling. 

“Tracey as well. I suppose most of us have children at Hogwarts now?” Cordelia asks. 

Leta chuckles. “Psyche has been very vehement in her dislike of most of her classmates. I think she’s trying to cope with being away from home.” 

Lilith smiles. “Blaise is rather taken with her.” 

“Really?” Leta tilts her head to the side and smiles at the Italian witch. “That’s lovely.” 

Imogene sighs. “My Zacharias is at Hogwarts now too. And your Draco is now, as well, isn’t he, Narcissa?” 

Narcissa smiles a bit. “Yes, he is. Along with the Potter twins.” 

“Oh, yes.” Cordelia leans forward. “The Potter twins.” 

“I could have sworn they were identical twins.” Euphemia says. 

“Even if they were.” Leta says. “They’re not anymore.” 

“Fair point.” 

“What are the names again? Hadrian and Cassiopeia?” Imogene asks. 

“Harry and Cassie for short, I believe.” Leta says. “Lovely names, the full ones.” 

“Darling, you’re named after a Greek myth.” 

“Only a bit. But Cassiopeia in particular is such a lovely lyrical name.” 

“Darling, you’ve named most of your children after Greek myths.” Lilith says. 

“I suppose, yes. There are such lovely names, really.” 

“Haven’t you got a Cassiopeia?” asks Euphemia. 

“No, darling, I have a Cassandra. She’s four. I also have a Clytemnestra.” Leta says, smiling. She has quite a few children. Rumors abound about  _ how _ , given that most pureblood women have difficulty with fertility. 

Well, except for Prewett women. But rumor has it that the Prewetts long ago made a deal with some demon or god or perhaps Saint Morgana. 

“You do have so many children, Leta darling.” Cordelia says, eyes glinting. “How  _ do _ you do it? Arnold and I had  _ such _ difficulty with Tracey.” 

Leta smiles mysteriously. “Such things are really up to the Saints, are they not? Besides, none of their  _ fathers _ are purebloods.” 

“You  _ did _ do a ritual!” Cordelia breathes. “Was it Saint Morgana?” 

Leta smiles wider, eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps. Perhaps it was my own family ancestor, Saint Mordred… or perhaps it was entirely natural.” 

“Darling, there are always spells involved when two women have a child together. And you have quite a few with your wife!” Lilith says. 

Leta merely laughs, bright and tinkling, and tosses her curls over her shoulder. “We were speaking of the Potter twins, weren’t we?” 

“Gryffindors, I hear, and friendly with their yearmates.” Narcissa says, smiling wryly. “Draco speaks of them  _ quite _ a bit.” 

“I imagine so.” Leta flicks her fan open, emeralds and rubies catching the light. “I heard from Psyche that they spent some time with Ronald Weasley. How fortunate that they decided against remaining friends with him. Psyche has only the most unpleasant things to say about him. She thinks he’s a pig and rather cruel to his yearmates.” 

“He made my Hannah cry.” Euphemia says, scowling. “Little Susan Bones punched him for it.” 

“Ah, Hufflepuffs,” Imogene says. 

“I imagine this year is going to be quite a year.” Leta says. “Quite a few heirs and heiresses in first year this year. And quite a few…  _ problems. _ ” 

“Dumbledore, you mean.” Narcissa says with narrowed eyes. 

“Indeed.” 

“I don’t see him.” Cordelia remarks, glancing around the room.    
“He was not invited.” Leta says coldly. 

“I see.” 

None of the women speak for several moments. Psyche comes running back over, one braid having worked its way loose of the crown, and slips her hand into her mother’s. 

“Oh, little one, your hair.” Leta lifts the braid lightly and begins to fix the crown. Psyche pouts a little bit as her hair is tugged. 

“Grandmother is talking to Dowager Countess Prewett. I didn’t wanna talk to her.” Psyche announces. Everyone present grimaces. 

Muriel Prewett, the Dowager Countess Prewett, is not well liked. Her sharp tongue and tendency to criticize everyone around her, particularly those she considers ‘lower’, makes her a social pariah. 

Particularly since, unlike many purebloods, she is  _ rather _ racist. Given that between the Potters, the Lestranges, and any number of other powerful families, are  _ not  _ in fact white as snow, as Muriel Prewett would prefer, she has made no friends in the classes higher than hers. 

Really, speaking to the then-newly Duchess Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Muriel had made her biggest mistake. 

_ Insinuating _ that the young Duchess needed to be rescued from her husband. 

Lily had made the situation very clear when she hexed Muriel and stormed off with James. 

Muriel has not had many friends among the upper class since. After all, after Lily’s heritage had been revealed to not be quite as Muggle as everyone thought, pureblood supremacists had at least stopped sneering down their noses at her. 

And Muriel, again, does not have many friends among the upper classes. 

“Well, I can’t say I blame you, darling.” Leta says, patting the crown of braids, now fixed. 

Psyche spots a friend and darts off again with a quick “Thanks, Mum!” over her shoulder. Leta chuckles softly. 

The hour grows late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my sister and I invented Leta some time ago, and we absolutely adore her and all thirty-something of her children that we created, so she’s going to keep showing up in practically every one of these stories. In the main storyline itself, she probably won’t show up for another few books. --CassandraStarflower


	5. Tea Party, 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leta Lestrange II cordially invites you to her tea party.   
> Gossip with a side of politics- Don’t be late!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fuck JK Rowling and TERFs, trans women are women and trans men are men, both authors of Cassiopeia Potter are queer. I use they/them pronouns and am nonbinary, so please use they/them if and when referring to me, thanks! --CassandraStarflower

The ladies walk up the steps to the Lestrange townhouse, ready to delight in gossip and very good tea. 

The door swings wide with a tiny brown-haired child staring up at them with big eyes. 

“Well, hello!” coos Narcissa. “And who are you?” 

“Clytemnestra!” the little girl chirps, peering through her big poof of curls. Her ability to flawlessly pronounce her name is impressive. 

Leta appears a few steps behind the little witch, smiling at her guests. “Nessie, darling, why don’t you go play with Helen, Castor, and Polly?” 

“Oh, Leta, you didn’t!” Narcissa says. “You named your quadruplets after-” 

Leta merely smiles and shoos the little girl inside. 

The ladies follow Leta to the sitting room. Tea is waiting, steaming hot, and Leta sits down, smiling, and gestures for them to sit. She crosses her legs at the ankles and smooths her dark green dress. She’s wearing her hair in braids that are wound together into a thick crown on her head, and has woven silver chains through it. 

Leta never fails to look anything less than lovely. 

The ladies sit in unison and Ursula leans forward, a smile on her lips. 

“So, Leta darling, how is your newest baby?” 

“Cressida?” Leta asks. “Oh, she’s just darling. A sweetheart. A bit of a biter when she’s upset.” 

Ursula laughs softly. “Like her mother, then.” she teases. 

Leta echoes Ursula’s laugh. 

“So, Hogwarts next year.” Narcissa says, smiling. “My Draco is going.” 

“My Psyche is as well.” Leta says. “First of my children to go to Hogwarts.” 

“You must be so proud.” Ursula says. 

“I knew she would go to Hogwarts. She’s been having bursts of accidental magic since she was a few months old, changing the colors of her blankets and such. A powerful little witch.” 

The others all smile, though Narcissa’s is a bit pinched. Draco has been displaying minor amounts of accidental magic since he was five, earlier than some but later than the more powerful children often do. 

“Of course, this coming year is going to be quite a year, isn’t it?” Ariadne says. “So many Heirs and Heiresses starting… and the Potter Twins!” 

“Quite a few important little children.” Leta agrees. “Like the Potter Twins, like Narcissa’s Draco, and my Psyche, and I believe the Longbottom boy is starting next year. Along with the Bones girl and a few others.” 

“Going to be quite a year.” Ariadne repeats. 

Nessie comes running back into the room, this time trailed by a little boy with the same head of dark curls, another little girl with lighter hair and startlingly blue eyes (as compared to Nessie and the boy’s green), and a last little girl with the same dark curls and the blue eyes. 

“Castor, how’s my little hero?” croons Leta, catching the little boy. “Polly, darling-” the darker-haired blue-eyed girl beams at her- “Helen, my little darling!” The lighter haired girl dances over, beaming. “Nessie!” Nessie runs over, looking pleased. Leta fusses over all four for a few minutes while the other ladies smile and sip their tea. 

Eventually, Leta again shoos the quadruplets from the room and turns back to her companions. 

“Ah, children.” she says, smiling. “They’re such lovely little ones.” 

“Helen and Polly have lovely blue eyes.” Narcissa remarks. “Nothing like yours.” 

“Castor and Nessie inherited my eyes.” Leta says. “Helen and Polly inherited their father’s eyes.” 

“Ah yes, the mysterious father.” Ursula says. 

Leta chuckles. “A lady must have  _ some _ secrets, mustn’t she?” 

“How about that new law?” Ariadne asks, hastily changing the subject. 

Leta grimaces. “Foolish restrictions on old traditions. They already tried to ban rituals, now they want to ban betrothals? What’s next, a ban on same-sex relationships? A ban on transitions?” 

“I agree.” Ursula curls her lip. “Foolish newcomers. They don’t understand the traditions. My own sister transitioned during her Hogwarts years. And they  _ would _ try to stop that, wouldn’t they!” 

“They're all idiots.” Leta shakes her head. “Perhaps it’s best that the world has never known the given names of the Potter Twins.” 

“What do you mean?” Narcissa asks. 

“Well, you know, I found out the legal names listed. One of them has  _ defaulted,  _ you see. Hadrian and Cassiopeia Potter. They were born identical. Not any longer, it seems.” 

“Ah,” Ursula breathes, leaning forward. “Which one?” 

“Hadrian, I believe. Lily and James announced that they were having girls, remember.” 

“But they’re being raised by Muggles!” Ariadne says. “How can they change their names?” 

“Well, it’s automatic. If a child decides to transition, well, Magic knows. And of course, when you register your child, you’re required to list two names. One you’d give to a girl, one you’d give to a boy. So when Magic sees that a child’s decided to transition, well, it defaults to the other name. Of course, you can legally change the name, as well.” 

“Magic works in mysterious ways.” Narcissa remarks. “They really are trying to ban betrothals, too- Lucius has heard about it from the Minister.” 

“Ridiculous, it is.” Ursula sniffs. 

“They can’t get away with it! The betrothal contracts are such an important part of relationships!” Ariadne gasps. 

“No, they can’t.” Leta scoffs. “But they’ll try, and they’ll chip away at the things that hold this country strong and weaken us until the next Dark Lord or Lady destroys us all!” 

With that grim pronouncement, the ladies went to spend some time with Leta’s children. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, the Leda from Greek myths had four children: Clytemnestra, Castor, Pollux, and Helen. Yes, Leta named her quadruplets after those four children. Are Helen and Polly actually Zeus' children? That's for Leta to know, and no one to find out :) --CassandraStarflower

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these ladies will be reappearing.


End file.
